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He stands in the center of his father's Pattern.
Last appearance of the Hall of Mirrors has suggested that he should get very far away from both Amber and The Courts, and Ghostwheel has managed to talk him into exploring the limits of Pattern's ability to transport people.
With Pattern of Amber and Logrus of Chaos both still rather cross with him, there's really only one option for that.
So, he stands in the center of his father's Pattern.
Rinaldo-the-pattern-ghost and the glowing disk of Ghostwheel's presence were both there, watching him depart.
He's not exactly clear on how he's planning to return, so he's geared for trouble - all Trumps he could possibly need, and a some blanks, a dozen spells using Cowrin's Pattern as the scaffold (Sigil of Logrus does seem to obey him for simple magic, but he isn't going to rely on it continuing to behave), a good sword from The Courts, Frakir around his wrist, a pocketful of blue crystals, and various supplies.
Unfortunately, taking the spikard unknown distance away from its ties to shadow is probably not safe, so there goes his source of unlimited magic.
"Well, here it goes." he says, and then concentrates on his destination.
Take me somewhere far, where no-one could have gone before
An ashen, blasted landscape reveals itself, lit by flickering green flashes. Distantly, cries of battle and the clash of steel. In front of him, soldiers threatening him with swords.
The pain in his hand is really quite intense now, matched by a pounding in his head. He feels like now might be a good time to pass out.
He could probably push thorugh a few more moments of consciousness, but it's not like he's going to manage to hide anywhere safe. He passes out.
A cord on his hand relaxes slightly from the tightened state it's been ever since a nightmare appeared, though not entirely.
When he regains consciousness, he's in a dark cell, lying on a straw mat on a cold stone floor. A bald, pale-skinned man with pointed ears is examining the marked hand.
He lies still, not showing any signs of waking up, and observes for some time.
"Feigning unconsciousness is often an effective strategy for gathering information," the man says. "Though less so when I can feel your pulse so easily."
"That's a good skill to have I guess."
He can't feel anything in his marked hand, but it's pretty localized. Weird.
"I don't think I know where I happen to be, and I don't quite like it."
"You are in a jail cell," says the man, "in the basement of the chantry in the village of Haven, located at the base of the Frostback Mountains of southern Thedas, on the Fereldan side."
"Jail cell, huh. Interesting place to wake up in."
He isn't really worried - imprisoning an initiate of the Pattern is hard, unless they totally prevent him from moving. Or burn his eyes out...
"It seems the authorities believe you might have something to do with the explosion and subsequent tear in the Veil."
"Explosion? Tear in the veil?"
"Hm. I think my memory's fuzzy. I think I remember going through the cliff or something, but it's very vague..."
"Yes."
He shifts awareness into his own body.
"Huh. Intersting, I wonder..."
Then he screams.
After a while, he stops.
"Ok. It hurts, but I can block it, and apparently did before."
The man chuckles."That is one sort of explanation. Though I am not sure your jailers will find it amusing."